At Home With The Enemy
by Bohemian Rabbit
Summary: This keeps changing as I get bored so I won't do a proper summary. This is supposed to be relatively amusing. Judge for yourself.
1. Default Chapter

At home with the enemy  
  
As the sun set over the fortress of Barad Dur in the fiery land of Mordor, Sauron sat sorrowfully by an open window, his chin on his knees.   
"Why can't I have my ring back? I made that ring, I want it back! Why won't those idiots give it back, dead boy?"   
"Sir, I imagine that they are a little worried about the prospect of being killed or enslaved by you. And I would very much appreciate it if you would stop calling me "dead boy," muttered the ringwraith irritably.   
"Hey, if you didn't want to work for me, you shouldn't have taken that ring, you greedy little pig!" Sauron was renowned for his kindness towards his servants.   
"You never said that I would have to work for you, let alone remain a disembodied wraith for eternity!"  
  
Sauron sighed exasperatedly.  
"Do you expect me to tell you everything? Anyway, do you want me to fire you?!"  
"I would like that very much, sir" the wraith hissed.  
"Oh…well, you're not fired. So there!" Sauron stuck out his tongue and turned towards a nearby orc.   
"I don't like you much," he pointed at the orc. "Come here."   
  
The orc stumbled over to Sauron. Sauron poked it with a stick.  
"You are very odd looking creatures. Why do I employ you again?"  
"Err...well...maybe it's cause we look scary and cause you are the enemy of everythin' else..."  
The orc soon realised that it had made a fatal mistake.  
"I hate you! Why do you have to be so mean?!" Sauron hit the orc very hard on the head. It's head fell on the floor and rolled out of the door.  
"Sir, I do realise that you employ a lot of orcs but it really does seem a bit of a waste to just, well, kill them," reasoned the ringwraith.  
"Oh shut up dead boy! The only reason you're still alive…"  
"I'm NOT alive!"  
"..Is that I only have nine of you to choose from!"  
  
The ringwraith raised a black eyebrow under his oversized black hood.  
"You're only acting like this because you're parents spoiled you as a child."  
Sauron immediately jumped up and shouted,  
"I was not spoiled!"  
"Oh, come on, it stands to reason. You were an only child and you're parents gave you everything you wanted so now you have turned into a childish, power-hungry tyrant."  
"WAAAAAH!" yelled Sauron. "I am not childish!"  
"Ah, whatever." The ringwraith picked up a skateboard and skated away (the evil-looking horses had the day off).   
"I wish they could find a more appropriate mode of transportation!" said the wraith to himself.   
"DEAD BOY!" Sauron's voice echoed through the hall. "GO AND KILL THOSE FELLOWSHIP CREEPS AND GET MY RING BACK!!!"   
"Oh dear" the wraith sighed. 


	2. At the gates

At the gates  
  
It was three days after the conversation between Sauron and the dissatisfied wraith. Sauron had ordered him to find the Ring and kill the ones who carried it, but the wraith was taking his time. As he wandered through the Black Gate, with his black skateboard under his black arm, a thought crossed his black mind. Surely Sauron would not notice if he "lost" his brand new skateboard? And, after all, another little argument with the Dark Lord would be nothing compared to the awesome humiliation of attempting to look menacing whilst riding a child's toy.  
  
He continued to wander until he bumped into a young orc. It was looking rather lost and dejected.  
  
"Hey, you! What's the matter?" The wraith was not known for his kindness but he wanted the little orc to talk to him.  
  
"Sauron decapitated my Daddy!" it wailed. "And my Daddy didn't even do anything! Why is Sauron so mean?"  
  
The orc promptly burst into tears.  
  
"Hmm." The wraith felt a powerful sensation. Was it pity? No, it was hilarity.  
  
The orc continued to sob.  
  
"Would you like a new skateboard?" asked the wraith. This seemed as good an opportunity as any.  
  
"Not really, no." The orc sobbed again.  
  
"Are you sure?" This was very irritating.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Positive?"  
  
"GO AWAY!" It wailed loudly.  
  
"Shut up! Now, what would you like?" The wraith was determined to get the orc to accept the skateboard.  
  
"I want my Daddy back!" The sobbing continued.  
  
"Well, if you take this skateboard from me and burn it I could give you your Daddy's head." (To you or I this may seem a little morbid, but we must remember what these creatures are.)  
  
"Really? You'd give me Daddy's head?" It sniffed and looked up hopefully.  
  
"Yes, if you burn this skateboard." The tedium of this conversation was starting to eat away at the wraith's sanity.  
  
"Yay! Give me the skateboard then!" It jumped up suddenly, overcome by a sense of joy. It fell down again even more suddenly. There was an arrow protruding from its ugly head. The wraith looked around but could see nobody.  
  
"Damn! I'll have to burn it myself," the wraith groaned. He had wasted enough time already.  
  
"DEAD BOY.!" Sauron's distant voice echoed through the Black Gate.  
  
"He can see me. I forgot about that." The wraith kicked himself and went to find his menacing looking horse.  
  
It is a little known fact that all menacing looking horses must be properly trained before they are employed in Mordor. An ordinary black horse would most certainly not be menacing enough; it could quite easily be mistaken for the lovable horse, Black Beauty. So, horses must be found, interviewed, and entered into a training scheme before signing a three hundred year contract. It is quite rewarding for these horses; they are well fed, educated in the Dark Arts, and above all, most of them feel as though they have made something of their lives. Unfortunately these horses are usually the ones who have never heard of Rohan, and there is a very high suicide rate among the horses that realise that they have signed their lives away.  
  
This wraith's horse had heard of Rohan but her family had served Sauron for centuries. She was born and raised evil, which was rather convenient really. A suicidal horse can have an annoying tendency to delay journeys.  
  
"Hello Horsey Worsey!" Even ringwraiths can be sentimental sometimes. The horse whinnied. She took the black skateboard in her black teeth (evil dentists were few and far between), dropped it on the floor, and crushed it with her black hooves.  
  
The wraith gave a sigh of relief.  
  
"We're going on a trip, oh yes we are!" He stroked his horse affectionately. She nuzzled what should have been his face before stamping on his black feet.  
  
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" He slapped her round the face and mounted. He could not expect an evil horse to be nice to him; it was an absurd notion. They rode off into the black night, finally rid of the offending skateboard. 


	3. In the Shire

In the Shire  
  
As the wraith rode on he met some of his colleagues. They had also been sent to "go and kill those fellowship creeps and get the ring back," under his leadership, mainly because he was the leader. They had not managed to dispose of their skateboards. One was planning to sell his to some hobbit children while he was in the Shire. Another actually enjoyed skateboarding. He even wore baggy jeans under his cloak just to try and follow the trend, though he would never admit it. The others were going to throw their skateboards at Frodo just to try and put them to good use.  
  
They continued to ride for several weeks until they reached the Shire. During this time they had not met very many people and had been deprived of the opportunity to look menacing. Even the evil looking horses were getting depressed. All were looking forward to the opportunity to doing what they did best: looking menacing. Although they preferred to think that they were capable of actually being menacing as well, especially our wraith who could often be very sensitive about his evilness.  
  
They reached the cottage of a large hobbit family. Three of the children ran outside to greet these mysterious strangers. The wraiths realised that they obviously were not menacing enough: everything was supposed to be afraid of them, including these cheerful little hobbit children. What they did not realise was that children are a lot harder to frighten than they used to be. One of the wraiths dismounted and asked one of the children if she wanted a barely used, good as new, top of the range black skateboard. She said no. He said the same to her brother. He also said no. He asked another child. She burst into tears. The parents strode outside to see what all the noise was about. The wraith asked them where they could find a Baggins and offered them a skateboard for their trouble. They took it and convinced him to never become a salesman.  
  
The wraiths decided to split up to save time. The last one to the Ringbearer would purchase the first round of drinks, if they could find a pub that would serve them. They had planned to build one at Minas Morgul but they could not find anyone who knew anything about pubs. They were once men, great kings of men, and had never had to run a pub in their lives.  
  
Of course, to make this more interesting, our wraith found Frodo first. There was more than one hobbit, which made the whole scaring process a lot more enjoyable than had previously been expected. Unfortunately, the wraith was so wrapped up in the intimidation stage that he failed to notice the hobbits escaping from him. He hoped this meeting would still count towards his drink. He chased them all for a while but did so in vain; his colleagues also found them but they escaped. The wraiths soon decided to head for the Prancing Pony for their drinks.  
  
* * * When the wraiths arrived in Bree they could easily sniff the evil scent of the Ring. By some happy coincidence, the Ringbearer just happened to be staying at the Prancing Pony.  
  
"By some happy coincidence, the Ringbearer just happens to be staying at the Prancing Pony!" exclaimed a wraith.  
  
"We already established that you moron!" They were all irritable after a long day of chasing four helpless little hobbits.  
  
"So, er.who was the last to get to him then?"  
  
They all pointed at each other.  
  
"Right.you know, if I wasn't born and bred evil I would just get the drinks myself to avoid trouble."  
  
"You are born and bred evil."  
  
"That's why I'm going to have to draw my sword menacingly now."  
  
"Oh. All right then."  
  
The Black Captain, our wraith, drew his sword menacingly. The others sat back down and simultaneously admitted to being the last to get to the Ringbearer.  
  
"You couldn't all have messed this up! Could you?"  
  
They nodded sheepishly.  
  
"Good grief. Look, just forget the drinks for now. We can storm the pub when it gets a bit darker and steal a couple of barrels of ale on the way out. OK?"  
  
They looked at each other, shrugged, and nodded.  
  
"Well there we are then! Problem solved! And I didn't even have to stab you this time!"  
  
After waiting outside Bree for a couple of hours they entered and stormed the Prancing Pony. Or rather, they knocked down the gates for fun and then stopped once they were inside the Prancing Pony.  
  
"Can we drink yet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Can we drink yet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Can I."  
  
"SHUT UP!"  
  
"I just wanted to make a suggestion." He looked fearfully up at the Black Captain.  
  
"What then?" he groaned.  
  
"Well, I think the hobbits will be staying in the hobbit sized rooms."  
  
"Surely that would be too obvious?" The Lord of the nazgul was suspicious. "I can't smell the Ring in that direction."  
  
"So? They're hobbits, aren't they?"  
  
"Fair enough." He was tired.  
  
They approached the peacefully sleeping figures, trying their hardest not to allow the grinding of their swords being drawn to wake them. They raised their weapons, poised for action, and struck simultaneously. Absolutely nothing happened. Not even a scream. They tried again. Still nothing.  
  
"That's not right." The Black Captain removed the blankets suspiciously and howled.  
  
"DAMMIT! They tricked us! I suppose they must have met that Strider guy. Now they're going to be really hard to catch."  
  
"Can we drink yet?"  
  
The Black Captain hit the wraith very hard on the head. 


	4. In the Wild

In the Wild  
  
The wraiths pursued the hobbits relentlessly, except for a brief twenty-four hour break in which they finished off the stolen barrels of ale. They followed the foul stench of evil, stopping only to dream about what might have been had they realised that they could not just accept Sauron's powerful gifts and sell them on E-bay.  
  
They continued on horseback for days, until the horses decided to buck them off and go to a party. The wraiths continued on foot, some hoping that the horses would return, others hoping that the foul stench was indeed coming from the Ring of Power.  
  
"Where do you think Strider's leading them, Captain?"  
  
"Rivendell, you twit. Where else could they possibly go?"  
  
"Er.somewhere else?"  
  
"Shut up, you twit."  
  
"Why do you have to be so grouchy all the time?"  
  
"I'm a nazgul. I am neither living nor dead. Do you know what that feels like?"  
  
"Well."  
  
"DO YOU?"  
  
"Well, yes, actually. I am also a nazgul, I work for Sauron, we both do, and have been doing so together for a very long time."  
  
"Nobody understands me." The Witch-King shook his head and turned away.  
  
"Were you a teenage king?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Soon they approached Weathertop and decided to rest. They hadn't travelled much that day but morale was low, and the Captain was suffering from Servant Of Sauron syndrome, or SOS. (This is an interesting condition that is very common among creatures that are forced to spend extended periods of time listening to and being ordered around by an evil master, namely Sauron. Symptoms include depression, depression, and depression. Many ignorant people cannot tell the difference between SOS and depression.) The other wraiths were not so depressed as they did not have to face Sauron as much as the Captain.  
  
"Y'know, I think I can see something."  
  
"Good for you."  
  
"No, something interesting."  
  
"Ooh. Wow. Give yourself a pat on the back."  
  
"There's a fire over there." The wraith pointed at a light near Weathertop.  
  
The Captain jumped up.  
  
"You can always rely on the naivety of hobbits!"  
  
"Oh, come on boss, they're not that bad."  
  
"No, there is nothing wrong with them, they are just very easy to track. I rather like hobbits actually; it's just that annoying business with Sauron. You know, the whole "undead servant of the Dark Lord" thing."  
  
"Oh yeah. I know the feeling."  
  
The wraiths approached Weathertop slowly and stealthily. Conveniently an eerie mist had begun to swirl around their feet. When they were sure that they were close enough they stood up straight and held their swords in clear view. The hobbits had just noticed them and were absolutely terrified. Everything was going spectacularly well. The hobbits stood up and ran away. The wraiths continued to walk slowly for extra effect. They soon reached the top where they found the four hobbits huddled in the open. One plucky little hobbit called Sam raised his sword, shouting "BACK YOU DEVILS!" but they easily brushed him aside. Frodo fell over backwards and cowered. They noticed as he put the Ring onto his fingers.  
  
"Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaa." cackled the Captain. "You knew that the Ring would lead us to you. What makes you think that we can't see you when you put it on?"  
  
"Well, I just kind of assumed that." Frodo began.  
  
"That was a rhetorical question!" the Captain said patronisingly.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh indeed. I'm going to stab you now."  
  
"AGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  
  
The Captain's blade had penetrated deep into Frodo's shoulder.  
  
"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA."  
  
"Captain?" one wraith asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You were supposed to take the Ring, not torture the Ringbearer."  
  
"I was ordered to find the Ring and kill the one who carried it."  
  
"Yes, but."  
  
Suddenly there was a shout as Strider returned with a burning torch.  
  
"YAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  
  
"Oh don't be such a baby!.WAAAH!" One wraith screeched as Strider set fire to his black cloak.  
  
"Oooohhh, that's not good, I'm not happy.RETREAT! NOW! OH, IT BURNS, IT BURNS.!" The Captain ran, as did the other wraiths.  
  
"Well that was a complete waste of time.I lost my sword!" The Captain was very upset.  
  
Meanwhile, Strider held up the sword and watched as it dissolved into thin air.  
  
"He's been struck by a really crap Morgul blade. Probably got sword dust in the wound. This is beyond my skill to heal, he needs Elvish surgery."  
  
"What's Elvish surgery?" asked Pippin, another hobbit.  
  
"I don't know. They never let me into the operating theatre. I reckon it's the same as normal surgery but they give it a better name to make it more popular."  
  
"Oh. Great." Pippin was not convinced that an advertising gimmick was really what Frodo needed at this crucial time.  
  
Sensing this, Strider added, "It always works, y'know. Elrond is very good at it."  
  
"How do you know if they never let you into the operating theatre?"  
  
"I know many things."  
  
"Hey, I'm kind of dying over here!" yelled Frodo impatiently.  
  
Strider picked him up and they set out on their journey to the hospital of the elves. 


End file.
